I am writing you this letter, asking you to take my hand. I would like us to take a trip to see this countries past. I am writing you this letter letting you know not to be scared, because I am here to prepare you. I know you yearn for knowledge and guidance, but they’re hiding and burning the books in which some truths are kept (in order to sustain this well lit Hell). I know you are starving, but please child, do not kneel to the Golden Arches of the Burger Kings. I know you want to play, but please don’t roam these streets following the blind, and unattended.

You may ask, “who am I?” or “who are you?“; I am the Present and you are the Future. You see — I am writing you this letter as a gift, so TURN OFF THE TELEVISION and READ. I know you’re young, therefore you need to understand they are killing Our Mother, Our Sisters, and Our Brothers! But this Nation was founded on lies and corruption, so you have every right to blame our Fore Fathers.

Lost Children you may not be concerned because they’ve put you in a box, and marked the target with an “X“, but Ive come to help heal you. They are trying to strip you of everything.I hand-down to you any and everything I have to ensure your Knowledge and Safety.

PLEASE PAY ATTENTION! I know it’s hard because your young, don’t let them trick you into thinking you have some disorder, they are just scared at the fact that I’m lining you up like soldiers and preparing for you the take over. I can BET my life and guarantee that these next couple of 16 years wont be so sweet. You’re absorbing all this like a sponge, but I refuse to let them dumb you down like Patrick.

TURN OFF THE RADIO! Don’t repeat those demeaning words, I know its hard because the tune is catchy, but my generation is the victim to the venom , and are now they have become lost generals. Listen to me, you Lost Children are our not so distant futures last chance at hope. But you don’t need the whips and chains, to see that this countries is trying make your life worth less rather than change. Be the change, and the sense, you are worth everything I’ve wrote.

Do not eat the shit they feed you, because it’ll only stunt your growth and widen the chances of you being incapable, but NEVER GIVE UP! And if I am not present, and they so happen to knock you down its okay. Just GET UP, do not stand by and allow them to keep thinking they’re stronger. PUT THAT HAPPY MEAL DOWN!

Lost Children, I know it hurts, but I’m trying to ease the pain and heal you, because these battle scars leave marks embedded in you physically and mentally. I am sorry my children, but war has been declared. I’ll just end this first letter asking you to join me on the next journey, our brother and sister countries, and prepare to save them too….

Shut your eyes to the world, but open them wide for my thoughts.Stop allowing the background noise to interfere.Channel my voice.Read this poem alone.

I’ve been echoing the same message. I’ve been screaming for someone to catch me as I am falling, and it still hasn’t happened. It’s true what they say, “you are your own worse enemy“. If you feel like your alright now….you’re not.

I am the best at mental hide-n-go-seek, because I’ve been lost inside my mind for years now. No one has found me and I wonder sometimes if anyone is even looking. Would they know what or who to look for? — I’ve tricked myself, I set a trap and I fell for it. I fell forward into a sea of misunderstandings, and now I’m drowning.No wonder I Love the beach…

I have convinced myself I was happy, because Love had found me. Now I feel as though it is a facade and I am witnessing it deteriorating…right-in-front-of-my-face.

Everyone is acting as enemies, but to their convince they shape up and play for the same team. They yell, curse, presuade, manipulate, downsize, lack faith…What they don’t know is I’ve already beaten them to it. I’ve been doing this to myself all these years, no wonder the real me is hiding.

Don’t stop reading yet…

I need someone to vent to.

Writing is all I got, even though people have the ability to read they still don’t understand my lingo. I wonder do you understand my message? When you read this do you see a motion picture taking place in your head? Can you see me stressing, running out of ways to keep my sanity?!

Picture this: Imagine me in a room, locked door, and sealed windows. Laying on an air-mattress, floating in a pool of ink. Forever laying in a bed without the ability to sleep. IM SUPPOSE TO BE HAPPY. Supposedly that’s what everyone wants for me. I don’t see that shit though, their double standards are about as consistent as when the wind blows. I suppose some of a little bit is true.

I’ll just remain being happy under everyone’s conditions; I dont know how they didnt pick up on it. All my poems are little clues. At least one person picked up on em, but he pushes me away too. Then again I am he, and he is me…so I guess in an essence it’s just me hiding from myself again. I don’t know when he’ll realize that he is my reflection, or that whenever any type of stress is present, we’re both in pain.

I’ve learned this Love is serious, and every time an obstacle presented its self we got through it. We celebrated, after the 5min party, we retreat back into the darkness. Day light savings, we fall back, so the light doesnt remain long.

Basically, what the fuck I am trying to say is, my mind is a Jail. I am stuck, no bail. Handcuffed to the bars of my cell, so i turned my phone off. I dont want any visitors.

…That’s all I guess, this piece was pretty pointless. I hope my words provided pictures. So when you see me smile, you know its not genuine. These poems are all tears from when I cry..A cry for help, to find myself inside my mind.

Hopefully when you took this glance throughout my thought process. You got a little glimpse of the lost Candace, and you can tell me where to look next.